Perchance, Unwound

 “I should call him. No. No, I shouldn't call him. Should I? No, I definitely shouldn't. But maybe if I just call him and we'll talk and he'll ask me to dinner. No. I'm not calling him. Not calling him is the logical, reasonable option. These things aren't logical and reasonable though, I mean, I'm a therapist! I know this. Oh God, I'm a therapist and I'm actually debating the possibility that calling him is healthy! I'm not going to call him. I'm not. I won't do it.” 

“For what it's worth I think you're making the right choice. Also, extra points for showing your work, Violet.” 

Feeling her stomach sink and the heat rise into her cheeks she turned around to face who could only be Cooper. Of course it was Cooper. Of course he would catch her talking to herself about Alan. 

“Cooper, I was just -”

“Deciding you were not going to call him under any circumstances. Which I really think is a great idea. This, Violet, is an idea I'm ready to fully support.” His eyes were smiling in that way he had. She couldn't help looking at him sometimes, not that she was attracted to him. She was attracted to Alan, and Cooper was her best friend. That's the way the world worked.

“He got a divorce. I just want to make sure he's okay, you know?”

“Jesus. Violet, I'm begging you not to do this to yourself again. It wasn't pretty the first time. Or the second time. Or the third. The fourth was especially unpretty. Please, I'm not trying to be mean. You know I'm not. I just can't watch you keep doing this to yourself.”

She sighed because Cooper was right. She was still getting her feet under her. She was just starting to become her old self again. This would ruin all of her work, this would ruin everything.

“You're right. I shouldn't call him, but I'm going to.”

“What?!”

“I know I shouldn't. Most of me doesn't even want to, but I know I'm going to. I don't know what to do. What do I do, Cooper?”

“Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah.”

“Grab your coat, come on. I'm going to take you home and babysit you. Make sure you don't do anything stupid and I'm stuck watching you cry tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Violet, please?” She nodded and gathered up her purse. As they walked out of the building, him slightly in front of her, she slipped into her jacket. Sticking her hand in her purse she fished out her keys and when they reached her car she jingled them in her hand, poised them at the lock.

Suddenly she felt warm, calloused fingers against her wrist. Violet looked up only to find herself almost pinned to the car with Cooper's arm pressing against her car door. His thumb traced against her pulse absently and that's when she made a big mistake. She inhaled his spicy, slightly sweet, purely heady scent. She realized she felt a little drunk off of it and that her brain wasn't working quite as well as it was with him an arm's length away.

“Cooper, what – what are you doing?” Her voice was soft, breathless and confused to her own ears. That about summed up what she was feeling right now. He looked slightly ashamed and dropped her hand, backed away a step. She missed him. God, she was going crazy!

“I'm sorry, it's just that I couldn't risk you taking your car home. It's way too accessible to you if I fall asleep. Who knows where you might go?” He teased her. She couldn't help but laugh as she got into their car. Cooper undid the windows a little because he knew she liked the feeling of the wind and Cooper let her pick the radio station and Cooper didn't mind when she sang off key because that's just how Cooper was.

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Sometimes Cooper had to wonder if he was crazier than she was. He had found Violet in her office talking to herself, having a debate on whether or not to call Alan. Alan, his mind sneered at the name. Stupid, mama's boy Alan who broke her heart into a gazillion and one pieces. Alan, Alan, Alan. 

Actually, now he didn't feel quite so crazy. He was saving Violet from herself. He was doing what any good friend would do, like cutting them off when they had drank too much or telling them when they have food stuck in their teeth. Except... he wasn't her friend. 

No, that's not what he meant. He shook his head slightly as he watched the wind play with the soft curls of her hair. Of course they were friends. Best friends. BFF. He hadn't been feeling very much like her friend lately, or maybe the problem was he was just feeling a little too friendly. Well, if you could count being head over heels in love with someone feeling too friendly. 

“Cooper, you moron! You missed my house!” Violet's amused voice cut through his silent angst and he couldn't help but sheepishly smile. He had indeed passed her house five or six houses ago. He pulled into one of her neighbor's driveways, and paused before he backed out to look at her. He found her startling eyes resting on his face and stared for a minute. It was silent and he could've swore it was full of something. “Go, Cooper! This is not my house.” 

“What? You're kidding me. I've only been to your house a million times and in my memory- which is impeccable, by the way – I remember your house looking exactly like this. Down to the last minute detail,” he turned his head to the direction of her house, “Oh, wait! Wait, wait! Maybe it was that one. Yes, I remember your house looking exactly like that one. What did I tell you? Impeccable!” 

She laughed and all of a sudden he remembered why he made an ass of himself so many times throughout the day. If Vi was laughing all was right in his world. He backed out, and instead of stretching his arm onto her seat he placed his hand on her head and wiggled his fingers in her hair. It was as soft as it looked and that made him wonder if other things were as soft as they looked like the slight expanse of belly she showed when she stretched, or her lips... 

Pulling into her driveway he watched as she bounded out of the car and to her door. Then when she looked back impatiently and called at him to stop being so weird he realized he had been in the car too long. So he followed her footsteps until he was inside of her house.

“So, what do you want for dinner?” 

“Violet, you don't have to...”

“Oh, come on. It's the least I can do."

“Well, let me rephrase. Violet, you can't cook,” he laughed, “How about I pay for some takeout?”

“I can pay,” he rolled his eyes. Of course she wanted to pay. They were friends. Just friends. Friends split the cost of meals and all of a sudden he found himself agitated. 

“I'm paying. The man pays, Violet! Are you a man? No, I didn't think so. I'm the man, so I'm paying and that's all there is to it.”

Shock passed over her pretty features and he was ready to chastise himself when he saw a hint of a smile play at her lips. “Okay, Cooper. You can be the man tonight if it's that important to you.”

“It is. Thank you.” 

“I don't get you sometimes.”

“I think you do.” But maybe, his inner voice continued, you just don't want to realize what it all means. He smirked when he realized his inner voice said something that sounded decidedly Violet-esque. 

“Right. Well, I'm going to go change and you be the man and order us some dinner. You can even kill it and cook it yourself if you want to,” her teasing smile was back. 

“I'm ordering Chinese,” was all he could bring himself to say as he watched her climb the stairs.

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Cooper was being weird. What was with all those looks? Maybe she should make sure he was okay later. After all, it was the least she could do. Violet washed the make-up off of her face and looked at the mirror. In her white tank top and gray sweatpants she didn't exactly look like a model, but he had seen her in almost the same thing crying. These things didn't matter to them, but why were they all of a sudden starting to register in her mind?

Refusing to think about her appearance any longer she skipped down the stairs and saw him watching a television program. She walked into the room and sat next to him, not allowing much space between them as their arms brushed while she got comfortable. 

“So, what's this we've got on?” She gestured vaguely to the area was the television was.

“I don't know. I was enthralled with this commercial, lots of bright colors and loud noises. Now it's just this,” he squinted at the screen, “I think she's angry because her best friend is sleeping with her ex-lover. The twist though, from what I've surmised, is that the ex-lover is gay.”

“He is not!” 

“Do you watch this?”

“No. I just don't think he's gay.” 

“Five bucks says he is?” 

“Cooper, betting on someones sexual orientation, whether fictional or not is wrong,” she smiled widely at him, “at least it's wrong for five dollars. Make it ten and you've got a deal.”

They shook hands and she ignored the little tingle of awareness in her stomach, ignored the fact that his thumb was doing that absent minded brush again. As the drama unfolded it was in fact very clear from the longing looks of the leading man to the town bad boy that he was indeed gay. She should have known better than to bet against Cooper. 

“Care to pay up?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Deal,” they spent the next half hour watching the show and mocking the story line. Pretending it was not believable at all though at parts the only difference were low cut dresses and hair gel. 

Just as she snuggled deeper into the couch the doorbell rang for their Chinese food. She did not want to move, she did not want anyone to pop the bubble they were in right now. It was safe and comfortable and she hadn't even thought of Alan. 

“I'll get it,” she offered. When she went to move he pushed her back down with a large hand on her shoulder, the bottom of his palm hitting her collarbone. 

“It's okay, I can get it. Besides, I'm paying.” He waggled his wallet inches away from her face and then turned to half-jog towards the door. 

She could hear his voice float through the room as he spoke to the delivery boy. Then she heard laughter and shook her head. What was it about this man that made people so happy? It was unexplainable. It was the Cooper-Effect and she was lucky to have it working it's magic on her tonight. 

He brought the food back out to the living room and sat on the floor as he arranged it on the table. He pointed out what everything was because one time she had got a spoonful of something she never wanted to taste again. 

They ate in a companionable silence. Violet joined Cooper on the floor, and they didn't bother with plates. They dug into the cartons, arms twisting over each others to get the last bite of chicken fried rice. When they were stuffed she gazed at him and waited until she caught his eye.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“Any time,” he replied and she had a feeling he meant it. 

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After he helped Violet put away the leftovers in the fridge he guided her back to the couch. It ached a little knowing this is what it would be like if we were together. Quiet nights in front of the television, Chinese food, sweatpants. Easygoing and perfect. Except there would be no Alan, there wouldn't be room for him in her mind while Cooper was in it. He would make sure of it. 

“Are you okay?” Violet asked him while she buried her small feet in between the couch cushions. 

“Huh?” Brilliant response, he mocked himself.

“Are you okay, Cooper? You've been acting weird all night.” She tilted her head into therapist position and got ready to listen to whatever he was willing to divulge. 

“I'm fine.” What was he supposed to say? I'm sorry I'm acting weird, it's just that you're beautiful and I'm in love with you and I can't believe fate would be so cruel as to put a blight like Alan in my plans?
 
“You sure? I mean, I can listen pretty well. In fact, people pay me for it. And trust me, these ears have heard it all. There's no surprising them anymore,” she said with a playful tug on her lobe. He couldn't help but reach out and tug the other. 

“I'm sure.” 

“Perfect.”

“Right. So I'm gonna go wash up. Chinese is messy. In fact, I think I got some sauce on your ear,” which was just an excuse to reach out and touch her again. How pathetic. Cooper got up from the couch and left her sitting there in the living room. 

Once he got into the washroom he took in his disheveled appearance. He took notice of his now wrinkled shirt, and pants. Lived in, he corrected himself. And why did it matter? It's not like she was ever going to look at him with desire in her eyes. He was Cooper for God's sake! 

He turned the tap water on cold and splashed it against his face. He had no idea how hard this night was going to be on his heart. He dried his face and then took one last glance in the mirror and prayed for patience. He could wait for her, would wait for her. 

As he descended down the stairs he caught sight of Violet's back in the hallway. Cooper went to say something but noticed she was holding something in her hand. The phone! And the phone was slowly moving towards the ear he had touched just minutes ago.

“VIOLET! PUT THE PHONE DOWN!” He shouted as he raced down the stairs at a neck breaking pace. He put his hand over hers and tried to pull the phone away. 

“Listen, I know we think this is a bad idea, but maybe it's one I have to make.”

“It's one you have made. Several times. Come on Vi, please.”

“Cooper, I have to call him.”

“No. No, you don't.”

“Yes, I do. You can't stop me from calling him!” She shouted at him.

“Violet, don't make me-” 

“What? What are you going to do to stop me from calling him?”

“Vi-”

“No! Come on, Cooper. What are you-” 

Before he could register what he was doing his strong hand was at the back of her neck drawing her towards him, and his lips were on her soft lips swallowing her words. She didn't push him away, he thought dimly, filed it away to examine later and then his brain shut down. Cooper's tongue traced the bottom lip and she sighed as she opened her mouth to him. Then her hands were gripping his shirt, pulling him closer to her and he could feel Violet's small body pressed against his own. 

Seconds turned to minutes and somehow, through nothing short of a miracle, she was still kissing him back. Her hands were sneaking under his shirt, flirting over his stomach. His hands were sliding up the flesh on her hips, up her back underneath her tank-top.

Cooper was kissing Violet. Violet was kissing Cooper. And the phone was laying forgotten on the hardwood floor.

It was a start. 

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love.

a fickle subject,
one that has been beaten to death
with hollywood movie clubs and clumsy
poet hands clenched in desperate fists.

i do not have much to say on 
love.
i do not have much insights to offer you.
only that it is an easy word to say, an
easier word to believe.
but maybe, just maybe, the hardest
word to mean.

i can see a beautiful face and claim
love at first sight.
i can see a beautiful soul and claim
true love.
i can see anyone, or anything and claim
love, love, love
just so i am not alone.

but love,
really,
what is love?

a rush of endorphins,
too much sweetness in your smile
and i'm flying.
but every sugar high has it's
crash.

then we try to redifine love.
we cannot accept that our hearts
could love someone like that.
someone who would let us fall flat
on the face of our hearts.
or sometimes, we're the one with hands in our
pockets.

we say,
i loved who i thought they were.
or,
i thought i loved them.
some say you cannot love others
until you love yourself.
some say you can mistake lonliness for love.
some say love is a seven letter word.

love.
a fickle subject.
love.
a woman in high, high heels.
love.
ropeburns on your wrists.
love.
a lie dressed up in truth's clothing.
love.
a broken pickle jar.